


Her Faith

by ShawnMorgan



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShawnMorgan/pseuds/ShawnMorgan
Summary: A Paladin shows her worth, and her wits.





	

Louisa D’antalia, Paladin of Torm, cursed as the Erinyes brought her sword down, in a curving motion. The Ice Demon launched its own attack, claws and heat absorption aimed at the veteran paladin. The Plate armour she wore hummed as its mystical defenses stabilised the temperature. 

She remained on the defensive and was beginning to think that she had overestimated the Devil Lord’s lust. If he was deploying his elites alongside his lurid assassins, then he’d started to take her seriously. The advancing undead swarm of Ghouls, Ghasts and Wights walking steadily and expectantly towards her confirmed those suspicions. The final part of this assault wave closed in on her.

Maybe our enemies should remember that older paladins don’t get that way by being idiots, even if too many bards sing otherwise. Then again, I think I prefer to let them continue getting it wrong; Lets me kill more of the scum.

She smiled nastily as she locked up sword to sword with the devil slut, and slammed her full plate helm forwards into her foe’s head. The brutal assault sent the devil woman flying and with her renewed movement, Louisa spun her sword down, round, back up, reversed and took the Ice Demon’s head off.

She closed on the Erinyes, growling when she saw the bitch on the ground, sword in front of her, and she was kneeling on all fours.

“Fine,” said Louisa, “surrender accepted. Now get the fuck off the battlefield and stay off.” 

Louisa’s mystic plate armour was dented, her enchanted shield (that gave its protection in all directions) was battered and there were numerous nicks along her Holy Avenger. Her sword glowed as she swung it around her head before pointing it at the oncoming swarm. As she pointed, golden yellow rays shone around her and as they touched the undead, the creatures withered, or dissolved under the positive energy of the Holy Avenger Sun Blade.

Louisa advanced, her blade glowing as she cleft her way through the remnant, slowing only to say one word. That word was aimed at the undead that had survived either her blade’s sun powers, or its still keen edge. The word was “TORM” and it was sacred enough to repulse her foes.

The fourth round was over and Belial scowled. If the Paladin slag kept this up, he would fail in his boast to get his daughter Fierna a new plaything, with which to ‘experiment’. He snapped his fingers and a new swarm of undead rose to his call. He sneered, this would be the end of her.

“Surrender now and be spared. You didn’t think I was unaware of how often you or that damnable weapon could do this for did you?”

“Damnable? Far from it-” A silky voice emanated from the paladin’s very blade.

“Correct, but not now, Champion” Louisa muttered.

“But mistress-”

“Be quiet. That’s an order.” She felt her weapon, her friend even, calm itself and prepare for the last wave. Earlier it had ordered her to use her own healing powers as her life had hung by a thread. She’d refused at first, not wanting to show any weakness to the enemy; The holy blade had done its duty then and given the order. The bond between wielder and weapon had confirmed that authority.

Louisa held her weapon ready as Belial advanced. She cursed silently as he stopped and the diabolical smile he wore told her he knew what she’d hoped for, for him to attack and breach the terms of engagement.

The Devil Lord stepped forward, his teeth glinting in that vicious smile. It reached down. “Well, little Tormite, I appear to have proven that you were unable to defeat me with the power of your fai-”

He was cut off as Inia Tefnour, Mage of the Green, arrived via teleport and still-silent cast an enhanced Cone of Cold Spell. The freezing spell drained Belial, although his sheer presence held him steady.

The Devil Lord reeled, snarling. But his remaining undead minions responded to his gesture, closing on the Magic User. It was about to go very badly for the mage, but why then was Tefnour grinning?

“TORM!” The reason for the mage’s humour became apparent as the sacred word spoken by Neryna The White, priestess of Torm, blasted Belial’s undead from existence, as she stepped out from behind the mage, having used his arrival as a distraction. 

“What trickery have you employed Tormite, to get around our rules of engagement!?” Belial growled.

“She didn’t need to. We’re her friends, we came without needing to be asked.” The last arrival and speaker was a blur of motion and little snow clouds formed as the Hearthling warlock teleported back out with a whirl of cold force.

Louisa smiled. She’d expected something like this. Between Inia’s intellect, Neryna’s wisdom and Spring’s lateral thinking, it was a foregone conclusion. Maybe they could have arrived sooner but-

“Sorry we didn’t come a bit sooner but we felt we’d be insulting you if we arrived during wave one or two, inferring you weren’t good enough at all.” The Hearthling, Spring, gave Louisa a knowing smile as she finished her Paragon friend’s very thought.

Louisa found her second wind and responded to Belial, “You challenged me to a duel of faith, yours against mine. You also said that only we should duel, and stated that you meant I should engage you alone.”

“Whereas I meant ‘we'.” The fiend gestured at its minions

“But you didn’t realise which faith I meant. Nor did my friends ever agree to your terms and that, you infernal piece of shit, is what allowed me to survive. Faith in my friends. A skilled Paladin understands the concept of Wiggle room”

The fiend blinked. The Tormling was right and he had badly underestimated the paladin. She and her friends had followed the rules to the letter. The smile on the grey blonde bitch’s face told him that she knew it, too.

“They call us Torm the proud, because we will not shame our lord by backing down from any evil.” Neryna the White smiled proudly as she spoke.

“They call us Torm the True because all of us will come to the aid of another.” Inia Tefnour smiled just as proudly.

“They call us Torm the Loyal, because even the more light fingered of us know where our hearts lie.” Spring Froststep grinned as smugly as only an Avonlea Hearthling could.

The Devil Lord rose to his full height but suddenly quailed as the hell around him glowed a golden hue. “Then isn’t it good for me that I included myself in my claim?” He advanced further on the quartet and laughed. It didn’t last long.

Even as Belial brought his wicked blade down in a wicked swipe, there was an almighty clang and an explosion of painfully pure light. Twelve feet tall, clad from head to toe in full plate, with gauntlets with inscriptions, a new figure figure arrived.

“You have considered yourself part of your subordinate forces. This allows me the same courtesy. Shall we continue, or do you submit?”

Belial growled, trapped by his own machinations. To duel Torm himself invited destruction. Slowly, grudgingly, he knelt and offered his sword.

 

* * *

Torm sat, on his throne, ornate enough for his station but not to the point of being gaudy. His arms rested on its innately carved edges, even as he regarded the woman in his service with great warmth.

“Ser Louisa D’antalia,” he began, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks flush at recognition of her new title. “You performed your duties even beyond what I would ask of you. Ask what you would of me.”

“I ask only that Neryna is absolved of the rule of celibacy so that she and Inia may pursue their love.”

Torm nodded. “So granted.” He turned to the smiling duo next and stated. “Should you wish for it to be a marriage, I offer to make it so, here and now.”

They knelt as one. “We accept, my lord, our marriage will be unshakeable.” They stepped back.

Torm looked to the Hearthling, and said, “Spring, you have come far from what you were, and you have made me proud.”

“That is all I wished for my lord,” Spring said stepping forwards. “My ancestor Shrike would be amused, but just as proud; especially considering his own friendship with Sindri the Swordmage.”

Torm chuckled. “Pelor has spoken to me of this. But let us toast the woman of the hour, Ser Louisa D’antalia!”

And the hall went wild.


End file.
